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“I HOLD IN MY HAND THE MORTGAGE. Page 41 




PAUL CRANDAL’S 
CHARGE 


BY 

HOPE DARING 


/ 


Ot-Wv-v-fi.- 










AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 
NEW YORK 

1 


THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two Copies Received 

AUG. 9 1901 

Copyright entry 

JV»v 3. 

CLASS CL xm. No. 

2-7 t^o o 

COPY B. 


Copyright, 1900, 

BY 

AMEKICAN TKACT SOCIETY 


PAUL GRAND AL’S CHARGE. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE TWO CALLS. 

“ As for these, thy sons, 0 Father, we ask that 
each one may look upon his appointment as the 
work of the Lord — the work he is to do with and 
for thee.” 

It was the venerable Bishop Hartley who was 
praying. Outside the church a cloudless Sep- 
tember sky arched over the busy city; within were 
three hundred men in an attitude of prayer. It 
was an annual conference of the Methodist Epis- 
copal Church, and on this morning the yearly 
apointments were to be read. 

“ The work of the Lord.” Those words were 
re-echoed, again and again, in Paul Crandal’s 
ears. Yes, that was what it was. In this new and 
larger field of labor upon which he was about to 
enter, he would labor for his Master more 
valiantly than ever before. 

The prayer was ended, and the reading of the 
appointments began. Paul was busy with his own 
thoughts. He had been in the ministry but two 
years, and during this time he had had charge 
of a mission chapel in Knowlton, the city where 
the conference was held. Now it was understood 
that he was to have other work, and he had rea- 
sons for thinking he would be sent to Layton, a 


4 


PAUL GRAND AL' 8 CHARGE. 


cultured and progressive town of ten thousand 
inhabitants. How much good he would do there! 
How 

“ Paul Crandal, Danesville! ” 

That roused him. Danesville! Why, that was 
the little town only twenty miles distant — a vil- 
lage of six hundred inhabitants, and considered 
in the conference as a most undesirable field! 
What did it mean? 

The sunlight looked through a window of 
stained glass, and hid his pallor with waves of 
rosy and golden light. What was that ringing in 
his ears? “ The work of the Lord; the work of 
the Lord.” 

Paul Crandal drew a long breath. “ It is that,” 
he said to himself. “ Am I serving my Master for 
the loaves and fishes? Thank thee, dear Father, 
that I can say, ‘ Whithersoever thou wilt/ ” 

Paul Crandal was thirty-five; the son of a 
wealthy man, he had been educated most care- 
fully. In his early boyhood illness had retarded 
his progress, and it was not until he was twenty- 
five that he graduated from the University of 
Michigan. He attended a medical college for two 
years, then went abroad to complete his studies. 
The sudden death of his father summoned him 
home, and he found that instead of the fortune 
which he had supposed awaited him, there was 
barely enough to give his mother a comfortable 
support. 

Paul went bravely to work. Just as success in 
his profession was coming to him he was con- 
verted, and felt that he was called to the min- 
istry. It had strained the slender resources of 
both himself and his mother to procure the neces- 


TEE TWO CALLS. 


5 


sary theological training. Two years at Knowl- 
ton had followed, and now — Danesville. 

When the session was ended a strange radiance 
lighted his face as he made his way down the 
street. He was below medium height, compactly 
built, with a thoughtful brow, brown eyes, auburn 
hair, and a heavy mustache which hid a firm yet 
tender mouth. 

A few paces behind him came a group of men, 
one of whom was Elias Carveth, the presiding 
elder of his district. 

“ Is it not too bad, Carveth,” said one of his 
companions, speaking with a freedom born of 
long and intimate friendship, “to send a young 
man of Crandal’s attainments to Danesville? A 
c«llege course, a medical school, study abroad, 
and a theological seminary should fit a man for 
something better.” 

“ Do you think so?” and Elder Carveth sent a 
keen glance out of his black, bushy-browed eyes 
in Paul’s direction. “ Perhaps you are right. I 
hope these things have fitted Crandal for faithful 
service, instead of spoiling him.” 

While Paul was waiting for his dinner he 
penned a letter to his mother, concluding with 
these words: 

“ So, dearest little mother, you see it is all 
right, and the highest possible honor has come 
to your son. Or rather he has wakened to a sense 
of the magnitude of the work before him. I fear 
I had grown somewhat indifferent to my work 
here, for which may God forgive me. My salary 
will probably be only five or six hundred, but 
there is a parsonage. Can you, mother, close the 


fi 


PAUL GRAND AL'S CHARGE. 


old home in Detroit, and come out in the wilder- 
ness with me? To have you and a home will give 
me strength for the fray. If you can do this, I 
will come for you after a couple of weeks. 

“ Oh, mother, my heart runs over with joy! 
The Lord’s work is my work — our work, I will 
say. Good-by, precious mother. 

“ As ever your loving son, 

“Paul Crandal .” 

At that very hour, in the consulting room of 
Dr. Fletcher, Knowlton’s most eminent physi- 
cian, another scene was being enacted which was 
to have a weighty influence upon the ministry of 
the pastor so recently appointed for Danesville. 

Two persons besides Dr. Fletcher were present. 
One was Dr. Briggs, the pompous medical man 
of Danesville; the other, a slender, middle-aged 
woman whose pale, intellectual face and carefully 
modulated voice betokened a refined nature. 

“ So I told Mrs. West she had better come 
down and see you,” Dr. Briggs was saying. “ Not 
that there was any real need of it, but I thought 
maybe folks would think I ” 

“Yes, yes, Briggs, we understand,” Dr. 
Fletcher interrupted brusquely. “Let me see 
your tongue, please, Mrs. West.” 

He subjected her to a thorough examination, 
speaking rapidly, and often seeming sure of her 
answers before he put the questions. When he 
had finished, he bade her be seated, and, mo- 
tioning for Dr. Briggs to follow him, left the 
room. 

Marion West sat looking thoughtfully out of 
the window. She had begun to feel uneasy about 


TEE TWO CALLS. 


7 


herself, and had not demurred when Dr. Briggs 
proposed this visit. 

“ Somehow I already feel great confidence in 
Dr. Fletcher,” she thought. “ I am sure he will 
help me.” 

A few moments later the door opened to admit 
him. 

“ Dr. Briggs has gone. Here is some medicine 
which will, I trust, ease the pain from which you 
have been suffering.” 

She rose, and something in the steady blue 
eyes which met her own quickened her breath. 

“ What do you think my trouble is?” she 
asked. 

It was a moment before he spoke. Then he 
asked calmly, “ Do you want me to tell you? ” 

“ Certainly,” and the face of Marion West 
flushed. 

“ Be seated, Mrs. West.” Dr. Fletcher 
thoughtfully drew her chair back from the square 
of sunlight outlined by the window upon the car- 
pet. “As Dr. Briggs has given you no hint of 
what I am about to say, it will be somewhat of a 
shock to you. Can you stand such a shock? ” 

She nodded assent. He looked straight into 
her face and went on, a rare note of hesitancy 
in his firm voice: 

“ I find you are suffering from a cancer.” 

She started. Slowly the blood receded from 
her face and lips. “ A cancer! ” she repeated 
slowly. “ Oh, Dr. Fletcher, you can surely help 
me! ” 

He shook his head. “ I am very sorry to say 
that little can be done for you. The medicine 
will relieve you — for a time.” 


8 


PAUL CRANDAL'S CHARGE. 


“How long a time?” she queried anxiously. 
“ How long will I live, Dr. Fletcher? ” 

“ Not more than a year, I think. I may ” 

She silenced him with an imperative gesture 
of her slender hand. “ Please go away. I must 
have a moment to myself.” 

Without a word he obeyed. When she was 
alone, she fell upon her knees in earnest, heart- 
felt supplication. 

Dr. Fletcher had begun to grow a little uneasy 
before the door of the inner room opened. There 
was a dazed look upon Mrs. West’s face, but she 
was very calm. 

“Your fee, please?” she asked quietly. 

He named a modest sum. As she placed it in 
his hand, he said, with an impulsiveness much at 
variance with his usual reserve: 

“ I hope I need not tell you, Mrs. West, how 
sorry I am that my verdict was not a more favora- 
ble one. There are times when even our boasted 
science seems to be an empty thing.” 

She tried to smile, but her lips quivered 
piteously. 

“ You are alone in the world? ” he asked, after 
a moment. 

“ All alone.” 

He looked at the money he still held in his 
hand. “ Pardon me, are you poor? ” 

“ I am not rich, neither am I in a condition to 
need the help your kind heart prompts you to 
offer. I will have plenty to give me every com- 
fort — for a year.” 

He attempted to reassure her, but she again 
silenced him with that commanding motion of 
the hand. 


THE TWO CALLS. 


9 


“I thank you. Dr. Fletcher. I am stunned 
yet, but God’s way is right. Death is only the 
gateway to eternal life.” 

She went away. Dr. Fletcher watched her 
until she disappeared from sight. 

“ Poor thing! ” he thought. “ Still I would 
give all my learning and wealth for her ability to 
say ‘ God’s way is right.’ ” 

Meanwhile Marion West was making her way 
about the city, doing errands for herself as well 
as attending to various commissions for her 
neighbors. She even entered a quiet restaurant 
and ordered her dinner. She ate but little, how- 
ever, but sat staring straight before her, that be- 
wildered look still upon her face. 

It was four o’clock when she boarded the train 
for Danesville. During the short ride she sat 
looking from the window at the fields and 
orchards laden with the wealth of the summer’s 
harvest. Already there was a hint of autumnal 
crispness in the air. Here and there among the 
leaves were dashes of crimson, gold, and orange. 

She caught her breath convulsively. “ Next 
year,” she said, a sob in her throat, “ next year I 
shall be — where?” 

Danesville was situated in a valley through 
which brawled a noisy brook. As Mrs. West hur- 
ried up the street to her little cottage, she was 
stopped by several persons who, with neighborly 
kindness, inquired as to the result of her visit to 
the doctor. 

Mrs. West evaded their questions. She must 
be alone and face this awful sinking of her 
heart. 

She attended mechanically to her customary 


10 


PAUL CRANDAL'S CHARGE. 


duties. Fortunately no one called. At an early 
hour she closed the lower part of the house and 
went to the upper room where she slept. Here she 
threw herself face downward on the bed and 
fought out the great battle of her life. 

Fought it not in her own strength. The Christ 
whom she loved, who had suffered and died for 
her, came in answer to her cry. The bitterness 
and fear passed away. It was only the summons 
home which had come to her. 

When she rose from the bed the glories of the 
sunset had faded from the western sky, and a 
full moon lighted the little room. She lifted her 
face to the picture of her husband which hung 
over the high, old-fashioned bureau. 

“ Twenty years since you went home, dear,” 
she whispered. “ Now I shall soon be with you. 
Thank God for a love like ours, my husband! ” 

Then she went to the window and looked out 
over the quiet village. Midway down the street 
stood the little church. 

Suddenly Marion West fell upon her knees. 
“ Only one year more, and so much to be done. I 
have let many opportunities go unimproved. 
Help me, my Saviour, to make this last year a 
more fruitful one than those which have gone 
before.” 


TWO MORE GALLS. 


11 


CHAPTER II. 

TWO MOUE CALLS. 

On a hill that towered to the south of Danes- 
ville stood the Shedd farmhouse. Around it 
stretched fertile fields and sunny pasture lands. 
The house had been built many years before. 
Two tall pines guarded the gateway, and between 
them a grassgrown walk led to the seldom-used 
hall door. 

Here Amos Shedd, the last of the family, 
dwelt. He was a bachelor of sixty, and his home 
was shared only by hired help. 

On the morning following the day on which 
Paul Crandal had received his appointment to 
Danesville, Amos Shedd rose at an early hour. 
He had not slept well, and it was to get the tas^ 
which had disturbed his slumbers off his hands 
that he had left his bed before the usual time. 

Amos Shedd was a rich man. Gold was much 
to him, but there was no one in all the world for 
whom he gathered it. He had come to love 
money for its own sake, and his heart grew 
harder and his life more narrow as the years 
rolled on. 

He had not always been so self-centred. In 
his early boyhood a sister had shared his sports 
in this same old home, and the bond of love be- 
tween them had been true and tender. After she 
married and removed to the far West they sel- 
dom heard from each other. Six months before 
this September morning a package and a letter 
reached Amos Shedd. 


12 


PAUL CRANDAL’8 CHARGE. 


The letter was short and apparently had been 
written with difficulty: 

“Dear Brother: I shall soon be in heaven 
with our mother. I send you the Bible she gave 
me. Head it through, once at least. It is my 
dying request.” 

He could not refuse, skeptic though he was. 
At first he had sneered, but gradually he had 
come under the spell that the inspired volume 
casts alike over the learned and the ignorant. 
He finished the Old Testament and began the 
New. A strange unrest had taken possession of 
him. 

“ Of course, it’s all a myth,” he used to say to 
himself. Then straightway before his eyes would 
rise the faces of his mother and sister. Their 
lives, ruled and shaped by the divine life of the 
Son of God, had not been a myth. 

He was nearly through the book. There were 
but two chapters remaining, and it was to finish 
those that he had risen that morning. 

When he came from his chamber to the sitting 
room the light was still dim. Amos Shedd 
shivered, and wished there was a fire crackling in 
the old stone fireplace. He took the Bible and 
drew his chair close to an eastern window. 

“ I can finish it in ten minutes,” he said. 
“Then I’ll put the book away. I’ll keep it for 
Lottie’s sake, but I don’t believe I’ll ever open 
it again. Somehow it makes me feel •” 

He stopped abruptly, and the sentence was 
never finished. Even to himself he could not 
confess the longing that at times swayed him. 
If the story of the life, death, and resurrection 


TWO MORE CALLS. 


13 


of Christ were only true! If the abiding Spirit 
of God could only enter into his heart! Amos 
Shedd did not understand that through his Word 
God was speaking to him. 

He began reading the twenty-first chapter of 
Revelation. As he read of a “ new heaven and a 
new earth,” he recalled the days when his mother 
had taught him of these. They were in that 
“great city” now, — his mother and sister, — for 
they were of “ the nations of them which are 
saved.” 

Was he to be separated from them throughout 
all eternity? Ah, what was that? “There shall 
in no wise enter into it anything that defileth,” 
and a little farther on he read of the angel who 
came “to give every man according as his work 
shall be.” 

His work! A groan broke from Amos Shedd’s 
lips. Stay, there was something he had not read. 
“ Whosoever will, let him take the water of life 
freely.” 

The book dropped from his hands. “I will,” 
he murmured, and, rising to his feet, the man 
who had all his life denied the divinity of Christ 
knelt to him in prayer. 

The sun arose above the horizon and peered 
in at the window, touching the bowed head as 
with caressing fingers. The door from the hall 
opened. It was Mary Martin, the housekeeper. 
She was in a tremor because of oversleeping, but 
stopped on the threshold. 

“Mercy sakes!” she exclaimed, under her 
breath. “ Be the world cornin’ to an end? ” 

The next moment a softer light came into her 
honest blue eyes, and she closed the door care- 


14 


PAUL CBANDAL'S CHARGE. 


fully and made her way around the outside of 
the house to the kitchen. 

“ There aint nothin’ but the Lord can change 
him,” she thought, as she hurriedly filled the 
shining copper teakettle. From the heart of the 
faithful woman went up a petition that the God 
she worshiped would reveal himself to Amos 
Shedd. 

A little later the old man rose to his feet. 
Tears stood in his eyes, but the unrest of the last 
few days was gone. He had unhesitatingly put 
his faith in God. Nay, more. He had cried 
out for pardon and help, and had not cried in 
vain. 

“ 0 God, I thank thee,” were the words that 
fell from his lips. “ Take me and use me in these 
last few remaining days. All I have and am shall 
be dedicated to thy service.” 

Another incident occurred that day in Danes- 
ville, which must needs be recorded here. 

In one room of the little schoolhouse the 
teacher lingered after dismissing her pupils. 
Lucile Baxter was a slender little woman of 
twenty-three. Her fair cheeks were flushed with 
the roses of perfect health, her gray eyes were 
clear and serene, and the brown hair brushed 
back from her brow was smooth and shining. 

She stood at the blackboard, deftly drawing a 
picture of a stalk of com. This picture would 
serve on the morrow as the basis of a lesson for 
her little pupils. A step sounded in the hall, and 
a boyish voice called out: 

“ Lucile, are you here yet? ” 

“ Yes, Freddie. Come in.” 

It was one of her younger brothers, for Lucile 


TWO MORE CALLS. 


15 


was the eldest of a large family. There were 
four brothers and a baby sister, and to them all 
Lucile was a paragon of virtues and accomplish- 
ments. 

“ It’s just a letter,” Freddie said. “ I stopped 
at the office on the way home, and I thought I’d 
run back and bring this to you.” 

“ Thank you, dear. You are very kind,” and 
the flush on Lucile’s cheek deepened to a vivid 
crimson. 

Freddie nodded and ran away. The young 
teacher laid her cheek caressingly against the 
envelope. 

“ I looked for you a week ago, darling,” she 
whispered softly. “ But I knew you would come 
all in good time, because — oh, because true love 
knows no doubt. Now you must wait just a mo- 
ment while I finish my work. Then I will enjoy 
you.” 

She laid the letter on her desk and worked 
rapidly on, a happy smile on her lips. 

Lucile Baxter and George Landis had been 
engaged for three years. Soon after their en- 
gagement young Landis had secured a position 
in a distant city. They were to have been mar- 
ried in October, but when he had asked that the 
wedding be deferred until spring, Lucile had 
never questioned the wisdom of his request. 
There was but one cloud upon her sky, the oppo- 
sition of her father to George’s suit. Mr. Baxter 
was a kind parent, and he did not attempt to 
force Lucile’s choice. Still the girl knew her 
father distrusted her lover. 

Lucile finished her drawing, washed her hands, 
brushed a bit of crayon dust from her neat green 


16 


PAUL CR AREAL’S CHARGE. 


serge, and sat down to read her letter. Before 
opening, she softly kissed it. 

The letter was not long. The girl read it, and 
the color faded from her cheeks, the light died 
out of her eyes. Lucile was learning the hardest 
lesson a trusting woman ever learns — that the 
love upon which she had staked her all was false. 

George Landis told her that in a week’s time 
he was to marry the daughter of his employer. 
There was a half-defensive plea that he had long 
seen that they were growing apart, and that 
Lucile must have understood the change that 
time had wrought in him. In closing, he farther 
insulted the outraged girl by hoping that they 
might still be friends, and saying that he should 
always have an interest in her welfare. 

Lucile’s face grew stem and hard. She re- 
placed the letter in the envelope, and said to 
herself: “It is well. I am glad he learned his 
mistake.” 

She rose and moved aimlessly about the room. 
Pausing at the window, she looked out over the 
landscape. It was in that grove of trees down 
by the brook that she had first listened to the 
story of George Landis’ love. How glad she had 
been that the hallowed spot was in sight from 
her schoolroom window! 

Only a moment she stood there. Then tears 
came to her relief, and, throwing herself into a 
chair, Lucile sobbed out the wounded pride and 
grief that had been crushing her. 

She had truly loved George Landis. Loved 
the man she thought him to be, perhaps, rather 
than the man he was; but her heart was none 
the less sore for that. 


TWO MORE GALLS. 


17 


God pity the woman who must face such an 
hour alone! This was not Lucile’s portion. 
When tears had relieved the tension upon heart 
and brain, she turned to Christ for strength. 

Gradually she grew calmer. Pride, too, came 
to her aid. She must school herself to bear the 
curious looks and — still harder — the pitying 
words of those who knew of her broken engage- 
ment. 

“I must bear it,” she said, compressing her 
lips firmly. “ Oh, I wish it was not wicked to 
pray to die! There is nothing for me to live for.” 

All her plans for the future had clustered 
around the time when she should be the happy 
wife of George Landis. She recalled the sum 
laid aside from her salary for her wedding dress 
and the modest store of household linen over 
which she had worked so happily. 

“ There must he something for me to do, even 
if there is nothing for me to enjoy,” she thought 
wearily. “ God will not desert me. Whatever 
comes, I must keep my faith and trust in him.” 

She sat down in her accustomed chair, and 
laid her head upon the desk. From a contem- 
plation of the dreary future she turned to the 
needs of the present hour, crying unto God for 
sustaining grace. 

A half-hour later she entered the sitting room 
of her home. There was a chorus of exclama- 
tions over her pallor. 

“ Please, mother, I don’t want any supper,” 
Lucile said faintly. “I am going to lie down. 
Here is a letter for you to read. Don’t come to 
talk to me until I have had time to rest.” 

Mrs. Baxter was much disturbed by the note 


18 


PAUL CRANDAL’S CHARGE. 


of weariness in her daughter’s usually fresh voice, 
but she was too wise a mother to question her. 

Lucile lay with her face hidden among the 
pillows until daylight faded and the subdued 
light of the moon filled the room. Then she 
heard her mother open the door and cross to her 
side. 

Sitting down on the bed, Mrs. Baxter lifted 
Lucile’s head to her bosom. No sound broke the 
silence for a little time. At last the mother 
whispered: 

“It is better for you to know his real nature 
now, darling, than after you were his wife. Be 
brave, little daughter. God will help you.” 

“ Yes, mother,” — there was a new note of de- 
termination in the girl’s voice, — “all my plans 
for the future are gone, but my life shall not be a 
useless one. Perhaps I can be a better daughter 
and sister. The Lord’s work can be mine, and I 
will give myself to it.” 


BECOMING ACQUAINTED. 


ID 


CHAPTER III. 

BECOMING ACQUAINTED. 

The next week after his appointment Paul 
Crandal went to Danesville. He took an after- 
noon train, which landed him at his future home 
at half-past seven. 

He glanced quickly around. He was the only 
passenger, and was eyed curiously by the men and 
boys who were lounging around the depot. 

“ Can you direct me to the residence of Deacon 
Hardy? ” Paul asked of one of these. 

“ Right straight along that street, a right 
smart ways. When you come to a big square 
house with lots of evergreens in front, that’s the 
deacon’s. Goin’ to board at the deacon’s, he 
you? ” 

A fine rain was falling. Paul paused midway 
up the street and peered about him. 

“Hot much of my new field of labor visible 
to-night,” he said to himself. “Ah, here is the 
church, and it is lighted for prayer meeting. I 
will go in.” 

The room was large. Two lamps on the pulpit 
made a little oasis of light, rendering the gloom 
of the rest of the room more impressive. A 
dozen figures were kneeling in prayer. 

It was a woman’s voice to which Paul listened, 
a low, sweet voice that trembled with a weight of 
earnestness as the petitioner asked that God’s 
Spirit might come and dwell among them. 

“A co-worker in thy cause, my Master,” was 
the cry of the young clergyman’s heart. 


20 


PAUL. CRANDAL'S CHARGE. 


Paul walked down the aisle and took a seat. 
After the singing of a hymn, a tall, spare- 
looking man, whose hair and beard had been 
silvered by the finger of time, said: 

“ We will now take a little time to tell of God’s 
goodness.” 

A strange feeling of solemnity settled upon the 
little congregation. One after another spoke of 
God’s love and grace. The voice of Lucile Baxter 
broke when she told of her trust in Christ, but 
the tones of Marion West filled the room with 
sweetest music as she dwelt upon the joy of liv- 
ing in his presence. 

Paul’s gaze lingered upon Mrs. West’s face. 
What had brought to this woman that marked 
look of serenity? 

After all had spoken he rose, and in a few 
well-chosen words told them who he was and 
what his mission was among them. 

“I accept it as a happy augury of my labors 
among you,” he said, in conclusion, “ that we first 
come together in this manner. This meeting has 
been a blessing to me. I have come to Danesville 
to do, with you, the work of the Lord.” 

He sat down. For a few seconds that eloquent 
silence, that tells more than words can, reigned. 
Then Lucile’s sweet soprano voice rang out in 
“ J esus, lover of my soul.” 

When the meeting was over, all remained to 
bid their new pastor welcome. Mrs. West’s 
words lingered long in Paul’s memory: 

“ I have been asking God to send us the right 
man for the work here. Now I have begun to 
thank him for granting my request.” 

A few moments later Paul found himself walk- 


BECOMING ACQUAINTED. 


21 


ing along the dark streets in company with the 
leader of the meeting, who had proved to be 
Deacon Hardy. The rain had ceased, and a few 
stars shone fitfully out through the light clouds 
which the rising wind sent rapidly across the 
sky. Paul quickened his steps and threw back his 
head. 

“ Somehow, Deacon Hardy, I feel strongly that 
God is about to do a mighty work here.” 

The deacon sighed. “ I hope you are right,” 
he began, in a tone which plainly expressed his 
doubt, “ but do not build your hopes too high. I 
am older than you, and know Danesville better. 
The work here requires great caution, for there 
are many strange obstacles in the way.” 

They had reached the deacon’s door by that 
time, and no more was said. Paul was led to the 
sitting room and introduced to the wife and 
daughter of his host. 

Mrs. Hardy inquired hospitably if he had had 
supper. Even when the minister assured her he 
had partaken of this meal in Knowlton, the dea- 
con sent Carrie to the pantry after “ a bite of 
something for us all.” 

The girl came back with a tray upon which was 
a plate of doughnuts, a golden-brown pumpkin 
pie with its rim of flaky crust curiously crimped, 
a pitcher of cider, and glasses. 

“ It’s almost sweet!” the deacon exclaimed, 
apologetically, when Paul declined the cider. 
“ Only a bit of tang; not enough to hurt a 
baby.” 

Paul was firm. He never touched intoxicants, 
and it surprised him to see the relish with which 
the deacon replenished his own glass. 


22 


PAUL CRANDAL' S CHARGE. 


The clock had struck ten when the guest was 
shown to the “ spare room ” of the house. He 
threw up the window and sat down where the 
fresh, damp air fanned his face. “ It may be 
a hard battle, but victory is sure,” he said, “ be- 
cause of the promise ‘ I am with thee/ ” 

Soon after breakfast the next morning Paul 
started to investigate the condition of the par- 
sonage. He found the house small, but conven- 
ient and in good condition. It had a kitchen, 
dining room, parlor, and one sleeping room be- 
low, and three rooms above. He had nearly com- 
pleted his round of observation when a step 
sounded on the little front porch. 

Paul opened the door. The newcomer was a 
tall, heavy man, with a face furrowed by time. 
He held out one hand. 

“ You are Mr. Crandal, the new minister, I 
believe,” he said. “ My name is Amos Shedd; and 
I have a strange story to tell you, if you have 
time to listen to it.” 

“ I have both time and inclination,” Paul said, 
smiling cordially, “ but I am sorry I cannot offer 
my first visitor a better seat than this empty box. 
Sit down and tell me the story.” 

Without further introduction Amos Shedd 
briefly told the story of his life and of the won- 
drous change God had so recently wrought in 
him. 

“ I don’t know how to begin to work for him,” 
he said, with the simplicity of a child. “ Can you 
help me, Mr. Crandal?” 

“ I can let you help me! ” Paul cried, again ex- 
tending his hand. “ Oh, Mr. Shedd, God sent you 
to me this morning! ” 


BECOMING ACQUAINTED. 


23 


“Eh, what’s that you say? Why, Shedd, you 
here?” 

It was Deacon Hardy, who had entered unper- 
ceived. Paul turned, his face aglow with en- 
thusiasm, and told the deacon the story of Amos 
Shedd’s conversion. 

When the tale was finished, the listener nodded 
at Mr. Shedd. “I always thought, Amos, you’d 
see different some day. Pity you’ve wasted your 
life, though.” 

The old man lifted one hand as if to ward off a 
blow. Before Paul could speak, he said brokenly: 

“ I’m sorry, Deacon Hardy. Do you think it 
is too late now? I hope to do some good yet ” 

It was the minister’s voice which interrupted 
him. “ Too late, Mr. Shedd! It is never too late 
with God — never while a soul longs to do his will. 
Deacon Hardy is glad to give his hand and wel- 
come you into the Lord’s kingdom.” 

Deacon Hardy did give Amos Shedd his hand; 
but he did it in a half-hearted way. Mr. Shedd 
promised to come to church on Sunday morning. 
Paul walked with him to the gate, and something 
in the old man’s wistful face led the minister 
to say: 

“ Don’t wait until Sunday to commence work. 
Do you not know of some one you can help? ” 

Amos Shedd waited a moment before replying. 
He looked absently down the village street, where 
the leaves lay in drifts of bronze, copper, and dull 
red. In the background lay low hills, whose tops 
were veiled in purple mist. 

“ Yes, he said suddenly, bringing his deep-set 
eyes back to his companion’s face. “ I know a 
widow in poor health, with little children de- 


24 


PAUL CRANDAL’S CHARGE. 


pendent upon her. To-morrow the mortgage 
which I hold upon her home is due. I intended 
to foreclose it and send her homeless out into 
the street. May God forgive me! I will go to 
her now and tell her she has nothing to fear 
from me. Yes, Amos Shedd has found some- 
thing which is dearer to him than his money.” 

The next few days were busy ones for Paul. 
His mother had already shipped the furniture 
for the parsonage to Danesville, and a week later 
Paul was to go for her. 

On Sunday morning the church was well filled. 
The face of Paul Crandal shone with a strange 
radiance as he looked into the faces of the people 
to whom he believed God had sent him. 

His text was, “ Whatsoever is born of God over- 
cometh the world.” It was not only a scholarly 
sermon, but also a brave claim upon the surety of 
the promise, and a confident appeal to his hearers, 
because they were born of God, to join with him 
in overcoming the world. 

Some faces grew thoughtful, others tender, 
and a few hard — for Paul did not assume the 
world, in this case, to be aught but sin, and 
against sin in all forms he lifted a denouncing 
voice. He dwelt a little upon the evils of drunk- 
enness and gambling, perhaps because in his 
work at Knowlton these had been the forces 
which had done the most to make his labor 
fruitless. 

When the services were over, many friendly 
faces crowded around him. He sought out Amos 
Shedd and managed to tell enough of his story 
to Mrs. West and one or two others to insure the 
old man a hearty welcome. 


BECOMING ACQUAINTED. 


25 


Sunday school followed. Paul enjoyed the 
hour here. Ah, the field was widening. All 
these young lives to be made better. Could he 
ask for more? 

Deacon Hardy did not remain to Sabbath 
school. When Paul took his place at the dinner 
table, two unpleasant facts forced themselves 
upon his attention. The first was that Mrs. 
Hardy must have remained away from church to 
prepare the dinner of roast chicken, baked fish, 
various vegetables, hot biscuits, and orange short- 
cake. The second was that upon the face of his 
host rested an unmistakable cloud. 

The origin of this last was soon made known. 
The deacon finished his dinner, pushed back his 
plate, ominously cleared his throat, and began: 

“ I’m afraid you made a wrong beginning to- 
day, Dominie. I feel it my duty to tell you that 
drinking and gambling are best not mentioned 
in this pulpit. ’Tain’t necessary, ’cause there’s 
only one place, French’s, where anything of that 
kind goes on.” 

Paul looked straight into the speaker’s face. 
There was something more here than appeared 
on the surface. 

“ One place is one to many. Why should we 
not wage war against that?” 

“’Cause we can’t. French pays more for the 
church than any member. Then he’s got a mort- 
gage on our church property. You’ll positively 
have to let him alone.” 


26 


PAUL GRAND AL'S CHARGE. 


CHAPTER IV. 

A SEARCHING TEST. 

Paul Crandal grew very pale. His voice was 
low, but firm. “ Deacon Hardy, I believe I was 
sent here to work for God. If these evils of 
which we are speaking exist here, I shall lift my 
hand and voice against them.” 

There was silence for a moment. Mrs. Hardy 
and Carrie exchanged troubled glances. The 
Deacon was about to speak when Paul raised one 
hand pleadingly. 

“ Let us think and pray over it before we say 
more. I am sure you never thought of the matter 
in the light I see it in, and I know too little 
about the state of affairs here to carry on an argu- 
ment.” 

There was no reply. Deacon Hardy began to 
fear that this devout but impulsive young man 
was not the proper minister for Danesville. As 
for Paul, he was pained, yet confident that the 
right would triumph. 

He preached that evening to a smaller congre- 
gation than in the morning. Evidently the 
curiosity of non-churchgoers was appeased. 

Paul spent all the time he could spare from 
superintending the settling of the parsonage in 
getting acquainted with his people. Many of the 
discoveries he made were unpleasant ones. 

He found few willing to accept Amos Shedd’s 
change of heart without, at least, a cutting allu- 
sion to his misspent past. He also learned that 
while the saloon was a constant menace to the 


A SEARCHING TEST. 


27 


safety and happiness of the village, there was 
little open opposition to it. The church member- 
ship was small, and included very few young 
people. 

Paul was not disheartened. He was sure these 
Christians had not really lost their interest in 
Christ; they had only grown careless. He had 
asked for work, and this was the answer to his 
prayer. 

On Friday morning he was to leave for Detroit. 
The evening before, as he was going for the last 
time through the house to make sure that every- 
thing was in readiness for the coming of his 
mother, a rap sounded on the door, and he opened 
it to admit Mrs. West. 

“ 1 have come to call upon the parsonage,” she 
said cheerily. Then, as he led her, with a little 
pardonable pride at his own handiwork, through 
the cosey rooms, she went on: 

“ Leave the key with me, Mr. Crandal, and I 
will have supper ready for your mother when you 
return. She will he glad to come at once to her 
own home.” 

He thanked her. Perhaps neither of them 
could have told how it came about, hut in a few 
minutes they were telling each other of their 
impressions regarding the work to be done in 
Danesville. 

Marion West told her story simply. "I am 
glad we see alike,” she said, her eyes fixed upon 
the western sky, where the setting sun was tint- 
ing the dull gray clouds with faint pinks and 
yellows. “ Oh, thank God that he enables me to 
see the beauty of both living and dying in these 
last few days! ” 


PAUL GRAND AL'S CHARGE. 


28 


Paul turned aside his head. God’s power was 
plainly manifested here. 

It was fast growing dark on Saturday evening 
when Paul and his mother reached their new 
home. The air was chill and raw, but there were 
fires in the different rooms, the tea table was 
neatly spread, on a pretty oak stand stood a 
chrysanthemum loaded with snowy blossoms, and 
at Mrs. Crandal’s plate was a bunch of scarlet 
geraniums. 

There was no one in the house. Mrs. West 
had softly closed the back door after her, when 
she heard steps on the walk. She understood 
that it would be better for mother and son to be 
alone in that first hour. 

It was not until she stood in the pretty upper 
room which her son had prepared for her that 
Mrs. Crandal spoke. She noted the attention 
which he had paid to her particular tastes, from 
the fire blazing in the wee stove to the beloved 
“ Imitation of Christ ” on the table. Then she 
turned to Paul, and, looking into the eyes so like 
her own, said: 

“ I am very, very happy, my son.” 

Two months sped by. Paul found a serious 
impediment to the work he had undertaken in a 
quarter totally unexpected — in the church. 

It was “ French’s ” that made the trouble. Paul 
talked, preached, and prayed against that place. 
This brought upon his head much opposition 
from Deacon Hardy and his followers. They 
talked of the beauty of charity, but the minister 
refused to consider as charity the silence which 
passed without a word of reproof so glaring an 
evil. 


A SEARCHING TEST. 


29 


One evening, early in December, Paul was re- 
turning from a call upon Amos Shedd. His way 
led him past the saloon, and when just opposite 
it his attention was arrested by a crowd at the 
door. There was a burst of rude laughter as a 
slender figure, which seemed to be the center of 
the group, staggered and fell to the ground. 

Mr. Crandal stopped and watched the boy, for 
he was little else, as he struggled to his feet and 
staggered across the street. It was Milo Baxter, 
the brother of Lucile. 

Milo was only a few paces from the minister 
when he again fell heavily. Paul stepped forward 
and helped him up. Then he saw that the youth 
was too far overcome by liquor to reach his home 
unassisted. 

Paul Crandal did not pause to consider the 
propriety of his next act. Drawing Milo’s hand 
through his arm, he steadied the boy’s unsteady 
steps. They soon reached the home of the Bax- 
ters, and when halfway up the walk, the door 
opened and Mr. Baxter came out. 

The minister was conscious of a feeling of re- 
lief. Now it would not be necessary for him to in- 
trude himself upon the family at this trying time. 

No explanation was needed. A muttered oath 
broke from the father’s lips. A moment later he 
said half apologetically: 

“ I intend no insult to you, Mr. Crandal. I 
realize there are two classes of those who call 
themselves Christians, and I am sure you belong 
to the same class as my wife and daughter. Per- 
haps you can overlook my indignation when I 
tell you that the saloon here is supported and 
shielded by the church.” 


30 


PAUL CRANDAL’S CHARGE . 


“ Not by the minister,” Paul’s voice rang out, 
clear and firm. “I have had a lesson to-night, 
Mr. Baxter. If you will bring action against 
French, I will aid you in every possible way.” 

The father shook his head despondently. “ It 
would be useless. Several attempts have been 
made to convict him, but all in vain. Milo is only 
one of many. My boy is only nineteen. He tasted 
intoxicants for the first time a year ago when 
he was employed by Deacon Hardy. There is 
always cider there, and it was cider which first 
tempted my son. Then French’s soon completed 
the lesson.” 

Paul uncovered his head and turned his face to 
the steel-blue wintry sky. “ It may not be God’s 
will, Mr. Baxter, that mine shall be the hand 
to do away with this giant evil. It is his will, 
however, that I do all in my power, and to this I 
pledge myself. One thing more: do not judge 
Christ by us, his imperfect followers. Only by 
learning of him can you know the completeness 
of his life.” 

Mr. Baxter did not speak. He pressed the 
hand of the young minister. Milo’s incoherent 
mutterings had ceased, and he leaned heavily 
against his father. Paul bade the sorrowing 
parent good-night and hurried away. 

On arriving at home he found his mother 
reading. He drew a chair to her side and told 
her all. 

“ I am convinced, mother,” he said, in conclu- 
sion, “ that this is the first duty which presses 
upon me. I may lose friends, I may even invite 
dissensions in the church, but I must cry out 
against this sin.” 


A SEAUCUIAG TEST. 


31 


Mrs. Crandal’s hand stole into that of her son. 
They sat for a time in silence; then Paul went on, 
a strange note of longing in his voice: 

“ Tell me you will help me, little mother. I 
crave human sympathy to-night.” 

She rose, and, coming to his side, drew his 
head to her bosom. Her words were few and 
broken, but they gave him the unspeakable com- 
fort of mother love, and also pointed him to the 
Divine One who alone can fortify the soul 
against hours of loneliness and fear. Together 
they knelt in prayer. When they rose, the light 
of a holy purpose shone in Paul’s eyes, and he 
murmured: 

" Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and 
him only shalt thou serve.” 

Paul stopped Mr. French on the street the 
next morning. The minister’s words were few. 
He narrated the events of the previous evening, 
and when the saloon keeper began to make light 
of it, interrupted him: 

“ Mr. French, further conversation is useless. 
You know and I know what you are doing. I 
am going to wage war against your saloon, and 
shall show you no quarter.” 

“ You! ” and the face of the man darkened 
with wrath. " What can you do alone ? ” 

" I am not alone. My people ” 

A harsh laugh broke from French’s lips. "Just 
try them. I’ve the money and the influence in 
this village, and it won’t be well for the church 
to turn against me.” 

Paul lifted his hand. "Neither I nor the 
church can do aught without God’s assistance, and 
I claim that in the battle between you and me.” 


32 


PAUL CRANDAL'S CHAROE. 


The minister hastened on to the post office. 
He had written a brief statement of the case to 
his presiding elder. 

The next evening Mr. Carveth’s reply came: 

“ I secured your appointment at Danesville for 
two reasons/’ he wrote. “ First, I saw the church 
there was doomed to spiritual death unless it 
could be roused. Second, you were in danger of 
drifting into an absorbing love of culture and 
study. You may suffer much, the church may 
suffer more, but the Lord’s work must go on in 
Danesville. Never falter; God will give you 
strength and wisdom.” 

Sunday morning was clear and frosty. The 
church was crowded, and even the most thought- 
less could not but note the rapt look that rested 
on their pastor’s face. 

His text consisted of the words he had re- 
repeated to his mother, “ Thou shalt worship 
the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou 
serve.” 

It was a sermon long remembered by those who 
heard it. Paul touched upon the joy and beauty 
of true worship, soon passing on to show how 
useless was attempted worship without service. 
“Him only” was a prelude to a searching test 
applied to service. Serving God was serving 
humanity, and serving was life and delight. The 
service of evil — ah, some present cringed when 
he turned fearlessly to this. 

Nor did he pause at general principles. Paul 
Crandal opened his heart to his people that Sab- 
bath morning. He told them of the impression 
that came to him when he first knew he was to 
labor among them, following this with a recital 


A SEARCHING TEST. 


33 


of his convictions concerning the state of things 
in the village. 

“ I have promised God to wage war against the 
single place here where drink is sold,” he said. 
“You know of what I am talking. Among you 
are those whose hearts have bled because of this. 
As a beginning, I am going to ask every man, 
woman, and child in the village to take a pledge 
of total abstinence. Alone I am weak. I need, I 
expect your help. There are fifty persons present 
whose names are enrolled upon the class-book, 
besides many others to whom I look for assist- 
ance. This is the Lord’s work. Remember, I 
do not insist that you shall work in my way. God 
will lead you. Let all present who will join with 
me rise.” 


34 


PAUL GRAND AL’S CHARGE. 


CHAPTER V. 

OKE SOUL SAYED. 

There was a moment of breathless expecta- 
tion. The sun looked in at the window, the rising 
wind was momentarily hushed; it was as if all 
nature waited for an answer to Paul Crandal’s 
appeal. There was a slight rustle as Marion West 
rose to her feet. Another and yet another. Then 
a pause, and the pastor saw those who were to be 
his helpers. 

Mrs. Crandal, Mrs. West, Mrs. Baxter, and 
Lucile, Amos Shedd, Mr. and Mrs. Martin, — quiet 
country people who lived a mile out of the vil- 
lage, — and two sweet-faced schoolgirls — that was 
all. 

Paul raised his hands. “ Lord, thou seest, thou 
knowest. Thine is the work, thine shall be the 
victory. Amen and amen.” 

He said no more. A moment’s waiting fol- 
lowed, while those who had risen were again 
seated; then the minister announced a hymn. 
The rapt look upon his face had not faded. In 
the moment when there had come to him a 
realization of the weakness of earthly help, God 
had once more revealed himself in power. 

The church was again filled that evening, but 
those who came from curiosity were disappointed. 
Paul preached Christ, the sinner’s sole hope and 
the Christian’s stay and comfort. Before dis- 
missing the audience he asked those interested in 
the matter mentioned that morning to meet him 
in his study the next afternoon at four o’clock. 


ONE SOUL SAVED. 


35 


Early Monday-morning callers knocked at the 
parsonage door. Deacon Hardy, Mr. Slater, and 
Mr. Allen — the three leading men in the Danes- 
ville church — were shown up to the little 
study where Paul sat, his Bible open before 
him. 

The details of the conversation that followed 
are better left untold. Strong things were said 
upon both sides, for Paul fearlessly pressed home 
upon those who opposed him the consequences of 
their acts. 

“ Perhaps you do not know that last year’s 
interest on the church mortgage is unpaid,” 
Deacon Hardy said, when all other arguments 
had failed. “ According to the terms of that 
mortgage, Silas French can foreclose immedi- 
ately. He assured us he would wait on us, but it 
don’t stand to reason that he will put up with 
this. Then there is your salary. I may as well 
tell you, if you keep on this way, you will never 
get a quarter of it.” 

“‘Ye cannot serve God and mammon,’” Paul 
replied. “I cannot let men go unwarned down 
to hell because of money.” 

Mr. Allen now spoke for the first time. He 
was conservative, yet longed for peace. 

“ You think God sent you to us, Mr. Crandal. 
Surely it not his will that you should entirely 
overthrow his kingdom here.” 

Paul looked from the window in silence for a 
moment. Ah, this was the most potent argument 
of all. His gaze wandered over the narrow 
streets, the outlying hills, the brook, now held 
fast in the grasp of winter, and up to the cold 
gray sky. Peace, friends, the approval of his peo- 


36 


PAUL CRANE AL'S CHARGE. 


pie — were these “ the kingdoms of the world and 
the glory of them” unto him? 

“ I think, my friends, I am doing our heavenly 
Father’s will.” His voice was low and tender. “ I 
cannot, I dare not refuse. Oh, my brethren, I 
need your help.” 

Mr. Allen was about to speak, but Deacon 
Hardy silenced him. 

“ There is no more to be said. We will never 
enter upon any such work as you propose, and 
we consider you a fanatic. Good-morning.” 

“ Let us part friends,” Paul said bravely. 
“ Stay, we will not part yet. I am going down to 
see if I can persuade Tim Hanna to sign the 
pledge, and I will walk with you.” 

Little was said as they passed down the street. 
The minister paused at the gate of Tim Hanna’s 
tumbledown home. He could have chosen no 
better object-lesson than that wretched house, its 
broken windows, mended with bits of boards, and, 
in the background, a ragged child picking up 
pieces of broken firewood. 

Paul extended his hand. Two of the men 
grasped it in silence, but Deacon Hardy turned 
impatiently away. 

“ I can’t, Crandal. I think you are doing wrong 
intentionally.” 

Paul grew pale. “May God reveal himself 
to us both! Then we shall know his will,” he 
said. 

For two weeks the little band of workers toiled 
on. Mr. French was wise enough to obey the law, 
outwardly at least. Paul began to understand 
that this cesspool of vice could be removed in 
only one of two ways: French must himself be 


ONE SOUL SAVED. 


37 


reached, or public sentiment must demand his 
retirement from business. 

Either end seemed a long way in the distance. 
There had been a few sheaves gathered by the 
gleaners. A number had joined them, and 
among those who had signed the pledge were a 
couple of the frequenters of the saloon. The 
children had been organized into a juvenile tem- 
perance society, with Lucile as leader. 

On the other hand, Paul often encountered 
open hostilities. The lowest element of the town 
was arrayed against him; the greater part of the 
inhabitants of Danesville regarded him as a 
fanatic, while Deacon Hardy and his constituency 
openly denounced him as a “ false prophet.” 

Paul’s face grew thin and grave. This opposi- 
tion from his brethren hurt him sorely, but in- 
stead of anger a great pity for them grew up in 
his heart. 

It was only a few days before the officials of 
the church were formally notified that, unless 
there was an entire cessation of the attack by 
their pastor, the mortgage would be at once fore- 
closed. When Paul was informed of this he 
made a round of the members, vainly trying to 
raise money enough to meet the present 
emergency. He received no encouragement. 
Some went so far as to tell him that the financial 
affairs of the church were in the hands of com- 
petent officers, while nearly all urged him to re- 
tract and thus avert the threatened calamity. 

Christmas passed quietly. A few days after, an 
incident occurred which added fresh fuel to the 
flame of Paul’s zeal. 

Late one afternoon a message came from a 


38 


PAUL CRANDAL’S CHARGE. 


poor woman whose dissipated husband had been 
induced by Paul to take the pledge. Mrs. Kent 
asked the minister to come, and he set off at 
once. 

On reaching the shabby little home he found 
a rough, hard-faced man busy carrying out the 
poor furniture. Mrs. Kent was crying, while a 
couple of women were vainly trying to comfort 
her. 

Paul was soon in possession of the facts. The 
house belonged to French, the rent was past due, 
and the saloon keeper had found in this extreme 
measure a means of wounding Paul and also of 
revenging himself upon Kent, his escaping 
victim. 

“Where is your husband?” Paul asked. 

“ Oh, sir, that is the worst of all! When Hiram 
learned what was coming, he grew desperate, and 
said there was wasn’t any use of trying. He 
started off, and I am afraid he went straight to 
French’s. Oh, Mr. Crandal, my poor heart will 
break. I thought better days were coming.” 

“ Better days are coming, for God rules.” Paul 
Crandal’s voice rang out like a trumpet blast. 
“ Mrs. Crane, you take Mrs. Kent and her baby 
to my home. Mrs. Lee, here are two dollars. Get 
a man to take the furniture out to Amos Shedd’s. 
I will write a note asking him to let it be stored 
in his empty tenant house for the present. Keep 
up good courage, Mrs. Kent. I am going after 
your husband. Ask God to go with me.” 

Hiram Kent had fought long and fiercely 
against the demon that was striving to regain 
dominion over him. Slowly he yielded and, after 
wandering aimlessly about, drew near the saloon. 


ONE SOUL SAVED. 


39 


He stood staring hungrily at the light which the 
curtain only half veiled. Silas French caught a 
glimpse of him, and hurried out. 

“ Ah, you see which are best after all, Kent — 
new friends or old ones. Come in and have a 
drink, and we will talk it over.” 

Just then a firm hand was laid on Hiram 
Kent’s arm. “ Come,” Paul Crandal said, in a 
tone of command. “In God’s name, come with 
me.” 

Even Silas French shrank before the young 
minister. Kent made no resistance, but allowed 
Paul to lead him away. 

“I must go home!” he exclaimed. “Oh, I 
have no home, and I left my wife alone.” 

Paul hurried him on. “ I have cared for your 
family. There is another matter you must con- 
sider now.” 

They had reached the church, and the pastor 
led his companion up the steps. Within was a 
fire and a single lamp, in readiness for choir prac- 
tice an hour later. 

Paul turned to the man at his side. “ Hiram 
Kent, there is only one help for you. If ” 

Kent stayed the words of the speaker with a 
sudden fierceness. “ God knows I want to re- 
form, sir. You don’t understand. This cursed 
appetite! There are times when I’d barter my 
soul for drink.” 

“And you will do it if left alone. God can 
take away that appetite; all other methods will 
fail. Will you ask his help?” 

“ Pray for me,” he said in a hoarse voice. 

They knelt together in the dim church. The 
wind dashed a sudden gust of rain against the 


40 PAUL GRAND AL'S CHARGE. 

windows, almost drowning the voice of Paul. He 
prayed as only one can pray who lives close to 
God, confidently, yet submissively. When he 
ceased, another voice took up the strain. Hiram 
Kent’s words were broken, but into them crept a 
tone that stirred the heart of the single listener 
with joy. 

After a little the two men rose and clasped 
hands. 

“ I am safe,” Hiram Kent said softly. “ Oh, 
my heart overflows with rapture! Thank you, 
thank you! I must find my wife and tell her 
all.” 

“ Mrs. Kent is with my mother. You and your 
family are to be my guests until some other ar- 
rangements can be made.” 

The following day it was announced that 
special evening services would be commenced in 
the church the next Monday evening. Before 
that time arrived Paul had settled the Kents in 
the tenant house of Amos Shedd. The old man 
offered Hiram Kent employment for a year, and 
the offer was gladly accepted. 

There was a great deal of talk in the village 
concerning French’s treatment of the Kents. 
Paul began to receive an occasional encouraging 
word from those outside of the church, who 
had thus far held themselves aloof from the 
affair. 

The evening for the beginning of the services 
arrived, and the church w r as well filled. Paul 
preached a short sermon, and closed by saying 
that before he addressed the unsaved he would 
give the Christians an opportunity to testify of 
God’s goodness. 


ONE SOUL SAVED. 


41 


He had hardly ceased speaking when Deacon 
Hardy was upon his feet. He began by saying: 

“ I wish to call the attention of the church 
and pastor to the position in which we are 
placed. To-morrow the mortgage upon this 
building, which is dedicated to the worship of 
God, is about to be foreclosed. We are power- 
less. You all know whom we have to thank for 
this state of affairs.” 

A man from the back part of the room pushed 
his way down the aisle. A murmur of surprise 
ran through the congregation when the face and 
form of their well-known presiding elder was 
recognized. He raised one hand, in which he held 
a folded paper. Instantly the room became per- 
fectly quiet. 

“I was called here on business to-day,” Mr. 
Carveth began in his usual abrupt way. “ That 
business detained me until I was late at church, 
so I took a seat near the door. I hold in my hand 
the mortgage Deacon Hardy speaks of. It is 
paid, canceled, and presented to the church. 
This has been done by our brother Amos Shedd.” 


42 


PAUL CRANDAL’S CHARGE '. 


CHAPTER VI. 

VICTORY. 

It was some time before order was restored. 
After a few heartfelt testimonies, Mr. Carveth 
took the meeting in charge, and made a fervent 
appeal to the unsaved. It was not in vain. Soon 
four penitents were upon their knees, and among 
them was Milo Baxter. 

When the services were over Paul made his 
way to Mr. Baxter’s side. 

“ God is verifying his promises,” he said 
cheerily. “Will you not give Milo the greatest 
help mortal man can give him now — a Christian 
father?” 

The strong man turned aside his head. “ He 
has the best mother in the world — that must do,” 
he said, trying to smile. 

Lucile heard. Ah, how she had prayed for 
that father and brother! Might she not hope on 
after this? 

During the next few weeks Danesville was 
shaken out of its usual calm. The meetings were 
continued, and night after night souls were born 
into the kingdom of grace. Nor was this all. 
Gradually the estranged members of the church 
were coming back — coming to join heartily in 
all the plans proposed for work by their pastor, 
coming into a fullness of God’s presence un- 
dreamed of in the olden days. 

It was easy for eyes sharpened by love to see 
that Marion West’s strength was fast failing. 
There were times when no medicine could ease 
her suffering, and these occasions came more and 


VICTORY. 


43 


more frequently. Still, so great was her joy in 
the good work being done, that she seemed quite 
unmindful of her own condition. 

“I have so little time,” she said gently to 
Lucile one afternoon, when the young teacher 
stopped her on the street to warn her against the 
damp air. “ So little time, and there is so much 
to be done.” 

Lucile sighed a little despondently. “If we 
could only reach men like Tim Hanna! He isn’t 
sober long enough to even think. Oh, Mrs. West, 
if we could only shut up French’s! ” 

The widow smiled and bent her head to kiss 
the girl’s rounded pink cheek. “ Be patient and 
brave, dear. Ah, you are both, Lucile! How 
patient and brave, you know.” 

It was the first time she had referred to George 
Landis’ falseness. 

She passed on, and Lucile looked after her with 
eyes brimming over with sudden tears. How she 
would miss this kind counselor and trusty friend! 
Yet could she wish her sufferings prolonged? 

The words of the girl lingered long in Marion 
West’s mind. “If we could only shut up 
French’s! ” Why not? How could this be done? 
Was there here one more task which the Lord 
was ready to let her do for him? 

That same evening Silas French sat at his sup- 
per table. The great dining room was bright with 
lamplight and the glow of an open coal fire, and 
the table was spread with an abundance of the 
creature comforts so dear to the saloon keeper. 

A maid entered the room. “ Please, sir, Mrs. 
West is here, and desires to speak to you.” 

“Mrs. West,” he repeated wonderingly. 


44 


PAUL CR A NEAL’S CHARGE. 


"What can her business be? Well, show her 
in.” 

He hurriedly drained a glass of wine and left 
the table. When Marion West opened the door 
she found him standing before the fire. He 
greeted her politely, and motioned her toward a 
chair. 

“ Silas French,” and she came close to him, 
“ I have come to see you on business of the ut- 
most importance. In a few months, and it may 
be only a few weeks, I shall stand in the presence 
of your sainted mother and Elaine. What shall 
I tell them of you? ” 

He started. Elaine, his only daughter, who 
had, for sixteen years, been the joy of his home, 
and had then gone out of his life — how dared any- 
one mention her name to him? But Elaine had 
loved this serene-faced woman, and for the sake 
of his daughter he would bear, with her. 

Mrs. West came still closer, and laid one thin 
hand upon his arm. “ In the past few weeks, 
Silas French, we have been striving to overcome 
the evil done by you. We have not thought it 
possible to reach your heart. But to-night I have 
come here to entreat you, with my failing 
strength, to pause and look at your work. Think 
how it will appear to you at the judgment day! 
Think how it looks in God’s sight! ” 

He muttered something about it being nobody’s 
affair but his own. She shook her head. 

“ Don’t say that. It is a fearful responsibility 
for you to assume. So many homes you have 
made desolate, so many young lives you have 
ruined. Death may be as near to you as to me. All 
my past rises up to confront me. Many lost op- 

' L. of C. 


VICTORY. 


45 


portunities reproach me; but God is merciful, 
and will pardon. Oh, I wish I could tell you of 
the joy which his presence will surely bring! ” 

He turned upon her savagely, and bade her, 
with an oath, to be gone about her business. 

“ This is my business, for it is the work of the 
Lord. I beg of you, in the name of the daughter 
you once loved, to turn to God.” 

He was deeply agitated, but attempted to hide 
it under a show of bravado. 

“ Is this a new plan to put a stop to my busi- 
ness?” he asked sneeringly. “You meeting 
, folks have tried almost every other dodge. Curse 
that young parson! I was a fool to give up the 
mortgage! I hied that old idiot Shedd well, 
though. I made him pay me a hundred dollars 
extra.” 

“ I am not thinking of your business just now,” 
she said wearily. “I am thinking of your soul, 
and the Christ whom you have rejected.” 

He did not reply. His eyes were fixed upon 
the mass of gleaming coals in the grate. He 
feared death — strong man that he was. The 
power that enabled this slender woman to so fear- 
lessly face its certain nearness — it could not he 
of earth. What should she fear — she with her 
blameless life and her many good deeds? As for 
him 

He stopped abruptly and turned to speak to 
her. She was gone. She had said all she could 
say; then, with rare tact, she had left him. 

A sigh of relief broke from his lips, to be fol- 
lowed a moment later by a troubled exclamation. 
The thoughts she had aroused could not be set 
aside at will. He moved restlessly around the 


46 


PAUL CRA ARAL’S CHARGE. 


room for a time, then hurried away to the saloon, 
hoping there to drown the haunting memories. 

On the evening of the third day after Mrs. 
West’s interview with Silas French, Lucile was 
walking to the church with her father. 

“ Papa, why are you not a Christian? ” she 
asked timidly. 

The question startled him. Why was he not? 
He could hardly tell. 

“ You and your mother are good enough for 
me,” he began playfully; but she stopped him. 

“ Don’t say that, please don’t, papa. I wish I 
could he good for you, or good enough so you 
could see Christ reflected in my life.” 

His arm trembled under the light touch of her 
hand. Did she care so much — this brave little 
daughter, whose steady lips and grieved eyes had 
so made his heart ache? She was changed now. 
Strength and a joy in life had come back to 
her. 

In silence they walked on until the church was 
reached. As they were going up the steps Lucile 
said softly: 

“ I am praying for you, papa.” 

Just as the services were about to begin Silas 
French entered the door and slowly advanced up 
the aisle. It was Hiram Kent who hurried for- 
ward and led the saloon keeper to a seat well up 
in front. 

Paul’s sermon was a tender, thoughtful one. 
Life’s responsibilities and God’s love were the 
themes upon which he lingered, and tears coursed 
down many cheeks when the young minister 
begged his hearers to no longer refuse mercy and 
peace. 


VICTORY . 


47 


His voice had not died away when Silas French 
rose and began to speak! 

“ Neighbors, you all know how of sinners I am 
the greatest. I don’t know as there can be for- 
giveness for me, but God knows my heart,” and 
he strode forward and knelt at the altar. 

Before a word could be said, Deacon Hardy 
sprang to his feet. 

“May God forgive me for my sins! ” he cried, 
his old face working pitifully. “ Brethren, I too 
am willing to kneel and ask my Saviour to forgive 
me for the wrong I have done the faithful few 
who have labored for him here.” 

Soon another came forward, an erect, stalwart 
man, still in the prime of life. It was Lucile’s 
father. 

They knelt there together — the hardened sin- 
ner, the erring Christian, and the moral man — 
all asking the Son of God for pardon and help. 
No, it was not strange. The work of grace was 
being done in answer to the tears and prayers of 
those who had pledged themselves to the service 
of the Lord. 

On the morrow all the liquor in Silas French’s 
saloon was emptied into the street. It was a 
glad day for Danesville. Public sentiment was 
roused now, and another saloon would not be 
tolerated. 

The good work went on for a week longer. 
Over one hundred persons had sought and found 
Christ. Besides this, the church was all alive 
with an earnest enthusiasm. 

“ Yes, you are saved as a church,” the presid- 
ing elder said, one Sunday morning soon after, 
when he occupied the pulpit, “ and I’ve noticed 


48 


PAUL CRANDAL’S CHARGE. 


when a church is safe, the members individually 
are not in danger. Under God’s blessing, you 
owe much to your minister, and Danesville has 
done much for him.” 

Two years have passed away. Paul is still at 
Danesville, although he has had several oppor- 
tunities of exchanging his work there for some- 
thing the world would call better. “ All in good 
time,” is his reply to these suggestions. 

Marion West went home to her reward ere 
that first summer waned. She is not forgotten. 
By none is the gentle woman’s memory more 
revered than by Silas French. 

He is, indeed, a changed man. The old saloon 
is a reading room and a gymnasium now. The 
two men who gave their manhood’s pride to the 
world — Amos Shedd and Silas French — are striv- 
ing, with time and money, to help the youth of 
their native village. They often warn the boys 
to beware of their own grievous mistake. 

“ It’s a bad thing, my lad,” Amos Shedd would 
say, “ not to commence until you are sixty to do 
a life’s work. God blesses me daily, but I wish I 
had begun to do his will when I was like you.” 

Lucile is still a teacher. If the routine of the 
schoolroom grows a little tiresome, she whispers 
Paul’s own words, “ All in good time.” So she 
waits, knowing that if the life which stretches so 
fair before her is God’s will, he will make it plain. 

The work of the Lord lies all about us. Truly 
“ the harvest is great and the laborers are few,” 
but those who enter into the toils of his vine- 
yard find therein a joy and delight unspeakable. 




AUG 9 1901 





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